


unadulterated loathing

by ceto



Series: what is this feeling [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sexting, Slow Burn, canon Compliant through episode 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceto/pseuds/ceto
Summary: Yuri glares at him, hands clenching, daring JJ to close the distance and give him a reason to connect his fist with that chiseled jaw. He receives a smirk for his trouble and JJ draws back. It’s a long moment before he finally breaks the silence. “You’re every bit the force of nature I knew you would be,” he says, almost reverently.
  —————
JJ gets under Yuri's skin. They have phone sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You should be able to hover over the Russian for the English translation. I apologize for any Russian errors.

Yuri Plisetsky loathes JJ. It’s a pure kind of hatred, unconflicted and constantly growing. It's actually kind of exhilarating, the act of hating someone who so unquestionably deserves it. Every little thing Jean-Jaques Leroy does fills him with anger so intense that it leaves him feeling burnt clean after the fact. He’s no stranger to anger, but he can’t put his finger on exactly what it is about JJ that sets him off.

There are so many things to hate, really. The man wears sunglasses on his head even indoors, for fucks sake. That’s not to mention the way he dresses, the way he keeps his hair like he wants everyone to think he isn’t putting effort into it when he so _clearly_ is. Of course, there’s the incident in Moscow with the cat ears, but that almost pales in comparison to the shiteating grin on his face every time he takes position next to Yuri on the podium. And finally, worst of all, there’s the the fact that Yuri just can’t seem to shake him.

JJ is everywhere he goes, the smirking Canadian shadow he never asked for. He’s there clapping and calling him “cute” when he finishes a performance and he’s there grinning at the practice rink before the Grand Prix. Yuri pretends he can’t feel dark blue eyes on him as he skates. It’s a war against the deepest part of his nature to leave JJ’s silent challenge unanswered, but he manages to resist. He has bigger things to worry about.

That day, after practice, he meets Otabek in person and acquires a new friend. It’s unfortunate timing. They’re competitors and no amount of reminiscing about old training camps can change that. Yuri will do whatever it takes to win, including crushing Otabek. Still, he finds he enjoys the older skater’s presence. He’s calming to be around, unlike Victor and Yuuri, both of whom constantly seem to be a hair’s breadth away from declaring their undying love for one another.

Over dinner, Otabek asks what he’s been up to over the past few years. They’re incredibly driven, but skating is the main thing they have in common. Yuri tells him about ballet training. They tentatively avoid talking about the actual Grand Prix. Instead, he tells Otabek about getting caught in a face-off between JJ’s Girl’s and his own group of fangirls.

The Grand Prix Final probably takes at least two years off his life. Yuri skates like he’s never skated before. Yuuri takes gold anyway, which is irritating but makes sense given the recent revelation that he’s apparently been promised a wedding if he takes gold. The competition is cutthroat, but JJ narrowly beats him out for the silver medal. Yuri takes bronze. They all assume their positions at the podium and Yuri does his best to smother the rage he feels when JJ winks over at him. Victor quickly joins Yuuri on the ice after they accept their awards, making some big moving announcement about the depths of his love. It’s not Yuri’s cup of tea to begin with, but JJ uses the romantic scene as a cover to publicly tease him.

  
“You looked beautiful out there, kotyonok,” JJ leans over and whispers in his ear. He butchers his pronunciation but Yuri’s blood boils anyway. That shithead was so assured of his victory that he must have looked up the phrase before the match even started. Yuri stalks away before he can ruin his skating career by committing a very public homicide.

* * *

 

After the final he takes a week to let himself relax. He returns to Russia and keeps working with Lilia and Yakov. He doesn’t see JJ again for months, but he hears from him before the season starts up again. He’s relaxing in his room in Lilia’s apartment with his cat, Boris. A quiet purr fills his ears as his fingers comb through well groomed fur. With one hand he scrolls through Instagram, his feed filled with ultra-affectionate photos of Victor and Yuuri, photos of Chris on vacation, and a few images of himself posted from fan pages. His phone vibrates with a text alert, an unknown number appearing in his notification bar.

He doesn’t get a ton of text messages, but when he does they’re almost exclusively from Mila, Victor, Yuuri, and occasionally Yuko when she decides to check up on him. Yakov and his grandfather generally prefer to call him. He’s curious, so he opens the message.

_What do you think about your face on a sweater? I think we could really work with “Russian Ice Tiger” for a design._

Yuri growls, eyeing his phone as he contemplates throwing it across the room. It takes him mere seconds to identify the mystery texter.  He doesn’t bother asking how that asshole got his number.  In the end, he doesn’t trust JJ not to take his silence as tacit compliance, and against his better judgement he types back a simple: _No._

JJ responds barely a moment later, which, frankly, is blatantly lame of him. He was clearly waiting by the phone for some kind of response.

_At least let me send you the mock-up. You can decide then. How’s vacation treating you, kitten?_

_I’m blocking this number._

_Fine, no sweater. I understand._

* * *

Yuri doesn’t block him. It would be like admitting he can’t handle a few taunts. Instead he leaves the last message unanswered and saves the number under “Jean-Jackass” so he won’t be surprised if more of the texts come in.

They do of course, because it seems like JJ has never heard of moderation. He’s not actually sure what JJ is doing but it certainly looks like the Canadian is keeping tabs on his every match. The messages come in after each of them, filled with flowery compliments about his performance, his costume, his expressive eyes.

_Wonderful job! All eyes were on you! Can’t wait to face you again in Moscow._

Yuri wishes he would just point out his flaws instead so they could actually have it out, and then maybe he could block JJ’s number and be done with him. As things stand, something always stops him right before his finger bears down on the ‘block’ button.

They fall into a pattern of texting. Yuri usually only responds once for every three or four texts JJ sends, but he gradually allows the older skater to wear him down. For the most part their conversations are perfectly civil and perfectly devoid of any meaningful interaction. Maybe JJ asks about his day, maybe Yuri tells him. It’s an exchange of information about a competitor. Yuri begins to think of it as a kind of reconnaissance.

He throws himself into training. There’s a fire in him now, more than ever before. He’ll do whatever it takes to win, remaking himself in an endless loop. Aside from the situation with JJ, things stay the same. He’s assigned to skate in Canada and Moscow once again. Yuuri won’t be competing this year, too busy teaching with Victor in Hasetsu and planning a wedding. (Yuri can tell they’re planning to ask him to be involved from the way Yuuri gets nervous every time the subject comes up. He isn’t sure how he fits into the ceremony, but he draws the line at flower girl.)

The reality is that he doesn’t have time for things like weddings and romance, too busy focusing on his career. He’s improving at an astonishing rate, everyone says it. Russia continues to hail him as the next Victor and Yuri is desperate not to let them down. He knows he’s better than JJ now, he’s just waiting for the chance to prove it. When it’s time for them to face off in Moscow, it seems like the other man is around every corner with a shit-eating grin and a cheerful wave.

He’s preparing for his short program when JJ corners him in the bathroom. “It’s good to see you again,” JJ says, leaning back against the sinks while Yuri washes his hands.

“Can’t say the same,” Yuri responds shortly.

In actuality, it's strange to see him. It's...different now that they've been texting. It feels like their usual routine should have changed somehow, shifted in some way. It's stupid, really. JJ isn't any less of an asshole just because he sometimes sends Yuri pictures of cats he finds amusing. And yet, it’s a strange way to know a person. His experiences with JJ are almost equally divided into violent outbursts when they’re together and text conversations that sometimes border on pleasant.

JJ chuckles warmly and in only two long strides he has all but closed the distance between the two of them. It suddenly occurs to Yuri that they’re the only people in the bathroom, but he can hear loud crowds not far away. They make eye contact, JJ’s expression warm and open and Yuri’s dark and challenging. The tension hangs in the air and there’s a long silence. JJ looks him up and down slowly, and Yuri’s worn far more revealing costumes than this but he suddenly feels exposed.

“You’ve grown,” JJ says, open admiration on his face.

It’s true, in his defense, but no one gave him permission to point it out. Yuri’s grown almost a full two inches and put on some muscle. His hair reaches his shoulders now, when it’s not pulled back for competitions. JJ’s hand reaches toward him and Yuri can’t explain why he doesn’t immediately slap it away. He runs his thumb over one of the braids, tucked back into a ponytail. His pupils are a bit blown and his eyes track from Yuri’s longer hairstyle to his eyes, then to his lips.

Yuri glares at him, hands clenching, daring JJ to close the distance and give him a reason to connect his fist with that chiseled jaw. He receives a smirk for his trouble and JJ draws back. It’s a long moment before he finally breaks the silence. “You’re every bit the force of nature I knew you would be,” he says, almost reverently.

As much as he wants to pretend the words have no effect on him, Yuri feels something shift down in his gut. He sneers openly and recoils. “You're pathetic, so scared you won't be able to beat me that you’d resort to cheap tricks to get under my skin!” Anger races through him, so hot and fast that he doesn't notice the exact implications of his words until much later.

(JJ notices right away.)

Yuri roughly jabs a finger against the other man’s chest. “The gold medal is mine, so give it your best shot! When I beat you, I want you to know it's because I'm better than you.”

He stalks away, thoughts in a bit of a jumble for all his talk. JJ’s flirtations are nothing new, but rarely has he been so blatant about them. They always come cloaked in teasing and taunts and pet names he can't shake once the fans got ahold of them. This feels different. There’s no one around, no one to be dazzled by his charms, no one to impress except Yuri.

If this is a game, it’s a different one than the kind he’s played before.

He's almost fully shaken off their interaction and he's about to hit the ice when he notices a message on his phone.

_Good luck out there today, tigryenok. _

His blood boils. He skates out without another word to either of his coaches. His jumps are too high but it's still one of the best performances he's ever given. He’s exhausted when the routine is over, but it feels good anyway.

* * *

He loses to JJ by two points, taking silver at the Rostelecom Cup. He assures himself he wasn't swayed by this strange... _thing_ with JJ. The rankings demonstrate one thing, however. He’s better than JJ now, he just needs to up the difficulty of his program to prove it. To the surprise of no one, they both qualify for the Grand Prix.

* * *

 The text flirting begins in earnest after JJ and his fiance split up. Yuri finds out from the tabloids. JJ never mentions it, but he doesn’t message him for almost two weeks after that. When he does, he returns to his cycle of inane questions, pathetic thinly veiled attempts to goad Yuri into a full-blown conversation. Yuri pretends he doesn’t notice and lets him.

Gradually the scope of their conversation expands from the occasional cat picture and joke to what might actually pass for a real connection. JJ talks about his sister and brother, sends Yuri pictures of the three of them training together. Yuri recognizes them, has beat them before in the Junior division. They’re both nicer than their brother. JJ tells him about the weather in Canada, Yuri calls him weak, tells him he wouldn’t survive Russian winters. Later, JJ sends him selfies with his dog, a beautiful German Shepherd named Luca. When Yuri actually responds with a photo of himself and his cat, JJ acts like he’s won an Olympic gold. 

They talk about their families sometimes. JJ goes on and on about his siblings and Yuri realizes that, to his surprise, his competitor is actually a doting brother. Every time one of them nails something new in practice, he gets a text update. Gradually, Yuri lets his guard down. They’re still not friends, JJ still infuriates him, but it’s undeniable that they’re….something else now. Not exactly enemies.

  
JJ calls him beautiful, pretty, and dazzling but Yuri never reacts. He likes all his Instagram updates, and eventually Yuri actually follows him back. He asks if they can get coffee next time they’re in the same town. Yuri shoots him down mercilessly. This is some kind of game, and he’s is certain he can figure out the rules eventually.

* * *

 

The Grand Prix draws ever nearer. JJ is still back home in Canada. Yuri is traveling, in a hotel room for the night. He takes a long shower, letting the hot water soothe his tired muscles. When he gets out, he’s got three new text messages.

They’re all from JJ, who he’s pretty sure is wildly drunk based on past experience. In one of them, JJ tells him a joke he heard earlier that day. In another he links him to a tweet he thinks he’ll like. The final text just contains a selfie of JJ, winking at him with a smirk on his face.

Scratch that, Yuri is certain he’s drunk. He hangs up his towel and slips into boxers and a loose black t-shirt. He strips the comforter because he knows he’s supposed to, then sprawls out across the bed. Before he can decide if he wants to respond, another message comes in.

_What are youuuu doing tonight, my friend?_

_I'm not your friend._

_Yuuuurriii, why won't you let me woo you?_

_You're not trying to woo me. I'm not even sure you're trying to get in my pants. You're just bored._

_You wound me! I've been trying to woo you since the day we met._

_You weren't even single when we met._

_I'm an honest man, not a good one. Besides, can you blame me? You’re absolutely dazzling._

_How drunk are you right now?_

_Too drunk to pretend I don't want you._

Yuri feels a wave of heat in his gut, the kind of tension he doesn't usually give himself the freedom to release. He still doesn't really believe JJ, but it's a little tempting. JJ gets under his skin like no other, but the heady power, the idea of being wanted in the way the other skater is describing is its own kind of intoxication. Still, he knows if he gives an inch, JJ will take a mile.

_You don’t want me, you just want a warm body to replace your ex-fiancé._

It’s a cheap shot, but JJ’s words made him blush and Yuri kind of wants to make him pay for it.

_Do you really still think that? After all this time?_

A moment passes, and Yuri is just about to put his phone down when it vibrates again.

_Let me prove it to you._

Yuri wastes no time in texting back: _Absolutely not._

He leans his head back on the hotel room pillow and throws his arm over his eyes. He hates that the offer has left him slightly red in the face. It isn’t fair. JJ, wild and impractical JJ with his constant come-ons, shouldn’t be able to affect him at all. It’s not like he’s unattractive, but he’s certainly not God’s gift to man the way he thinks he is. And yeah, maybe he has an impressive body and maybe he does have beautiful navy eyes, but that means nothing to Yuri in the face of how goddamn annoying he is.

He’s actually almost shocked when over five minutes pass with no word. It seems like JJ might be listening to him for once. Yuri stubbornly denies the twinge of disappointment. He’s about to turn in for the night when his phone vibrates again. He takes extra care to wait 30 seconds before he opens the message.

It’s a video. From JJ.

He's alone. It’s mostly dark, but a couple of lamps around the room bathe him in a soft warm light. Yuri can tell it’s JJ’s bedroom. He's shirtless and wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that Yuri suspects are from his own brand. It seems inevitable where this is going, he doesn't even really need to watch, but his eyes are fixed on the screen anyway.

“This is your fault you know,” JJ begins, fixing the camera on his face, which is set in a pout. “I used to sleep around all the time, but now here I am, alone.” He turns his phone and shows off the empty room. Yuri is actually a little surprised he doesn’t have posters of himself hanging up.

“I wish you were here. Well...that part’s not exactly unusual. I know you think this is some kind of scheme to throw you off your game, but I don't want that. You're my biggest competition this season, I want you in top form,” he adds the last bit with aggressive sincerity.

“Yuri, I need you to try and believe this. I lose my mind when I’m around you.” JJ’s face looks absolutely wrecked and he looks a little unsure but he points the camera down the expanse of his chest anyway. The slow pan down muscles leads to the sweatpants again and, wow, there it is. JJ is half-hard in his sweatpants, the outline bold and obvious. He fixes the camera there for a long moment and then moves back to his face. “I haven’t even touched myself. This is what you do to me,” JJ looks like he wants to say more, but instead he hesitates, winks into the camera, and the video cuts out.

Yuri watches it twice more, each time the sound of JJ’s voice and the sight of the outline in his pants goes straight to his cock. His skin feels hot all over. It’s one thing for JJ to flirt with him, he can always brush that off. This is different. It’s undeniable. JJ wants him, and the evidence is right there. Yuri hates him for the way his heart races.

_I should send this out to the fansites, you fucker. I can't believe you would send me this shit!_

_Sure took you a while to respond, though._

_Go to hell._

_It's not because of my breakup. It's not because I'm bored. This is just about you. It's been about you for a while now._

It's the kind of declaration he would expect from someone like Victor or the other Yuuri. He stares at the words on the screen, almost willing them to give way to new ones, something that would reveal this as a big cosmic joke, the ultimate mind game. Nothing comes.

_You want me to take you seriously?_

_It would be a nice change of pace._

Yuri snorts at the response. He feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest as he types his response.

_Show me._

It takes JJ two minutes to respond but they're the longest two minutes of Yuri’s life. The alert comes in. New image received.

He opens it and finds JJ staring up at him, like a fucking idiot. He’s reclined on his bed. He leaves his face in the picture, must trust Yuri with it, or else he just has no remaining shame. He looks debauched but happy. He’s still shirtless but the difference is that he’s got a hand wrapped around his cock. There’s still not a lot of light in the room, but there’s enough for Yuri to see the sheen of pre-cum beading up at JJ’s slit. He looks beautiful and Yuri’s breath catches in his throat.

  
He feels the unmistakeable swell of arousal and before he knows it, he’s half hard. He keeps trying to take his eyes off the picture but he can’t. He’s not sure where to go from here, he’s in uncharted territory. His phone rings, saving him from the decision.

“You’re racking up one hell of a long distance charge,” Yuri says when he answers.

“Seems worth it to me,” JJ’s voice is a sultry purr.

“You're ridiculous, you know that?”

“Are you touching yourself?” JJ asks, no preamble.

Yuri feels just a little out of control. It reminds him of the way his stomach drops out when a roller coaster plunges downward. Even still, he’s telling the truth when he says:   “No.”

“Do you want to?”

Yuri pauses for the barest of seconds and that's all JJ needs to charge ahead. His breathing is a little shaky but he continues anyway: “Touch yourself for me, kitten. You're always wound so tight, you deserve this...”

He's no stranger to praise but this time it feels different. It's different than the open want he sometimes sees in the eyes of the audience after he skates. It's different than screaming and crying fans, calling out to ‘the Russian fairy’. He can’t deny that JJ actually knows him now. They don’t have a perfect understanding by any means. JJ confuses the hell out of him, and he knows he confuses the other skater in return. Still, this is...personal.

He aches with want. He situates the phone between his ear and his shoulder, deliberately avoids thinking about why exactly he wants his hands free.

“What do you think about when you get off?” JJ asks.

The truth is he doesn't really think about much of anything, doesn't even jerk off all that often. He's a champion. He didn't become the pride of Russia by giving in to every physical whim his body presented him with. He takes care of himself occasionally and each time the intense pleasure threatens him with addiction. He can’t let himself get hooked on the feeling. It does no good to spend his time chasing tail instead of improving his skating. He doesn't say as much to JJ but he gets a feeling the other man already knows.

“Nothing special. The first porn video I see usually,” Yuri says, and he's flushing. Up until now he's been evasive, but to admit even this much is basically to admit that he's decided to go along with JJ’s crazy phone sex scheme.

“That’s fine, I'll tell you what I think about then.” JJ sighs, as if he's entering another world. “I think about hot makeout sessions, the kind that start pretty PG-13 but always devolve into straight up dry humping. I think about sucking bruises on delicate collarbones. I think about how it feels the first time someone takes my cock in their mouth…” JJ says, sounding wistful.

His rapid words and the low, sultry cadence of his voice is enough to bring Yuri to full hardness. He traces his finger lightly over the outline of his length through his boxers, painfully gentle in a way that leaves him straining, pulse thrumming in his ears.

“Sometimes I think of you.”

Yuri’s cock actually twitches visibly at the words and he growls out “I don't recall giving you permission to do that.”

“You give me permission every time you set foot on the ice. You're glorious. No one moves like you do, not even me. It's intoxicating.”

Yuri offers only a muted _tch!_ in response, unwilling to submit.

“You're hard now aren't you?” JJ asks like he already knows. When he doesn't deny it, the words keep coming, breathless now. “Let’s do this together. Grip yourself for me, just lightly. Start stroking slowly, as slow as you can bear.”

His hand finds his cloth-covered cock, squeezing once through the fabric before he finally lets himself go fully. He lifts his hips and tugs his boxers down past his cock, needs the unfettered access. He lets out a shaky sigh as he grips like JJ asked him.

“Trace your finger around the h-head. Gentle circles...” He becomes acutely aware that JJ is following his own instructions, that they’re half a world apart but still stroking in time with one another.

He gasps out as he circles the head of his cock, feels the precum that greets him there. He’s so turned on now, he’s needed this for a while even if he didn’t know it.

“Sound so good, kitten. I wanna be the one to do this to you someday,” JJ admits, and Yuri would give him shit for it if this didn’t feel so good, if he didn’t sound so lewd.  “Try to keep your pace slow for now. Go ahead and use your freehand on your nipples.”

Yuri lets out his first honest to God moan and JJ’s answering noise looses a bolt of desire through him. He does as he’s told, rucks up his shirt so he can reach his chest. His nipples are sensitive, but he pinches at one anyway, stroking himself evenly with his other hand. Unfortunately, his cock has been neglected for so long, and the damp slide of his own hand feels so delicious that he thrusts into his own fist.  He lets out a soft moan that has JJ moaning in response

“Find your natural rhythm now, okay? That's it.” JJ urges, as if perhaps he can hear the slick sound of skin on skin as Yuri picks up the pace. He is pretty sure the hitching in his voice is audible.

“You moan so beautifully for me. I want to take you apart slowly, see you lose control,” He’s talking faster now, and Yuri knows the other skater likes the sound of his own voice, but he can hear the little sounds JJ is making, like he can’t help himself anymore. “Baby, I'm so hard…”

Yuri whines at that, a sound he will come to fervently deny. He strokes himself a little faster and moves his free hand from his chest to the bed, balling his fist in the blankets. Before Yuri can stop himself he's whispering “Feels so good…”

JJ moans like a porn star. “Uh, … uh, mngh… _fuck, Yuri.”_ It's the first time JJ's said his real name since this began in earnest, and he purrs out his pleasure. It makes him feel powerful and JJ has him so hot he's starting to lose his grip. He's going to come soon, but by the sound of it JJ is no better. He's moaning almost constantly, throaty and needy and it sounds so lewd that Yuri actually moves to bite down on his own fist to avoid making the same noise.

“I'm getting close,” JJ admits, breathlessly.

“...Me too.” He’s too far gone now, there’s no turning back. It’s the point of no return.

“Let me hear you, Yuri. Let me h-...hear you.” JJ sounds like he is about to burst and Yuri carefully moves his fist from his mouth. He still tries to keep quiet, not wanting to give up everything just yet, but he keeps letting out little moans and sighs. On a particularly toe-curling upstroke he actually whimpers, and the sound is so sinful that it would embarrass him if it weren't for the fact that it makes JJ _keen._

He’s red with embarrassment, wants to smother his noises but he’s so close to coming that he can’t spare the focus. Instead, he surprises himself with a demand.

“What do you think of when you picture me?”

It seems this is a question JJ has been waiting for because he launches into an explanation immediately. “I think of you in my hotel room after a match. I think about kissing you, of your hands around my cock, and of taking yours in my mouth. I think of eating your ass until you're begging me to fill you up. But most of all, I think of you riding me, perched on my cock, eyes rolled back in your head and we settle into a rhythm most people can only dream of. I think about leaving you untouched until you’re begging for it and then watching your face when I finally bring you over the edge. ”

“N-ngh.. _.Fuck_ , I’m going to...I..mn-NGH” Yuri gasps out as he comes. It rips through him like a wave and leaves him feeling like a God. The pleasure is mind-numbing and all consuming and through it all he hears JJ in his ear, urging him on with mindless praises and desperate gasps.

JJ comes immediately afterwards with a long, high sounding cry, his voice wrecked from the effort of maintaining it even for this long.

There's a long, almost companionable silence. It’s probably the best orgasm Yuri has ever had, but he’d die before admitting it. The silence goes on for so long that he actually begins to wonder if JJ has fallen asleep.

“I still hate you, you know,” he says, despite his racing heartbeat and the rapidly cooling cum that coats his stomach.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the line. “I know, Kitten. I'll see you in a few weeks.”

He doesn’t know where they go from here, has no framework for this situation, but he feels boneless and calm and altogether like he has to say something. He finally settles on a simple: “Goodnight, JJ.”

JJ lets out a pleased hum. “Sladkikh snov, Yuri...”

He blushes again, this time for an entirely different reason. He hangs up the phone before JJ can get any more ideas or say anything else unexpected. He’s tired but he musters the energy to clean himself off. He changes his boxers and slides back into bed. He covers himself with the blankets, settling in for the night and stubbornly refusing to think about what it would be like to actually have the Canadian skater here with him. He’s not some weak little fairy, no matter what the tabloids say. He doesn’t need to be cuddled, but he can admit that he is a little cold in the wake of his orgasm. He’s just about to shift his focus to sleep when he hears his phone vibrate. He doesn’t need to look at the number.

_Next time, I want to hear you moan my name._

In his afterglow, Yuri is too tired to muster up anything stronger than: _Go the fuck to sleep, JJ._

(He smiles anyway.)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this out of my head. I've been thinking about these assholes nonstop. All I wanted to do was write some smut but somehow this story demanded feelings. 
> 
> I'll probably write a follow-up where they actually have sex, but this is complete for now.


End file.
